Betrayal
by StephJoy
Summary: When Carrie Benson move's to Forks, Washington because of her mother, a few misunderstandings, and a gun, she doesn't expect much to be going on. Soon enough though, her and her new geeky friend, Davie Davidson, start to uncover the secrets of La Push.


**Stephenie Meyer Owns anything you may recognize from the Twilight Series. Everything else belongs to either me or their respective owners. **

**-StephJoy

* * *

  
**

Chapter One

Why is it that old people are known for driving slow? I mean, here I am in a car with my _great_ grandma, Clarice, and I'm pretty sure we've blown the last four stop signs, ignored the speed limit multiple times, and have been pulled over by the cops-once, which is right now.

A middle-aged, brown haired man walked up to the car and knocked onto the window. Grandma cranked it down-yes, this is the grandma-mobile- and gave the police man a sugary sweet smile. "Yes, officer?"

"Can I see your license and registration?" He asked politely, scanning the car for possible weapons and drugs-because all old grannies carry those around, duh. I can imagine it now-

"_Please step out of the car," The police guy would say._

"_Whatever did I do?" Gran would ask._

"_M'am, you ran three stops signs, two red lights, and ran _over_ a small cat,"_

_Gran would then discreetly reach under the seat and pull out a gun while saying, "Freeze sucka!" In a gangster-y way._

"Well Mrs. Benson-" Officer Swan-as his badge proudly proclaimed-started, efficiently pulling me out of my weird-ass daydream.

"Ms. Benson, you know that Charles," Grandma corrected, batting her eyelashes-whatever it is she had left of them, that is.

"Ah yeah- Ms. Benson," 'Charles' said while scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. "I'm going to let you off with a warning this time, but please try and follow the speed limits," He said gruffly before walking away and into his police car.

I just turned and stared at Gran blankly. "What was that?" I asked, kind of grossed/weirded out.

"That, my favorite great-grandchild, was how you get out of a speeding ticket,"

**W**ith a screeching protest, the grandma-mobile successfully stopped before hitting the garage door. I gave a sigh of relief and had the strangest urge to throw myself to the ground screaming, "I'm alive!" like in that movie, "The Pacifier" or whatever.

"Alright, here we are. Now remember Carrie, we're having dinner with the Davidson's later tonight, so don't make any plans," I smiled and nodded, signaling I heard and understood her. But seriously though, how would I already have plans when I just got here?

After the long task of getting out of the car, grabbing my suitcases, hauling them up to the house, and asking Gran which room was mine, I finally arrived in the jade green room that was considered to be mine for the duration of my eight month stay here in Forks, Washington. You see, I'm here because my mother, Ashlee Danielson, was sent to jail for eight months because of a few misunderstandings and a gun. 'Nough said.

I was just stuffing the last of my clothes into my closet when the power went out. With a sigh I looked out the window and saw surprisingly clear, sunny skies-it's almost always rainy here-before plopping on my bed.

"Whoopsies!" I heard Gran call from the living room where she had been watching _What Not to Wear,_ before the power decided to play dead. "Sorry about that honey, it seems that I forgot to pay the power bill," _Again_, I mentally added. I mean, they send at least forty little notices before they literally disconnect you from the power lines.

I groaned and pulled out the last thing I had to unpack-the light green, puke colored box that is the key to all humanity and its survival. Just kidding, it was just my jewelry box, an ancient old thing that had been handed down through generations of Benson women, and being Gran had no girls and I'm her only great-granddaughter-or even just granddaughter- she gave it to me. According to Gran, it was given to my super duper great times a thousand grandmother, Ruth, by some man that wanted her affections or something. Long story short, she accepted it and they got married-cue happy music here-efficiently starting the long line of women that would be handed the box.

So basically, it was an ugly thing that I felt forced to keep and eventually hand down because of its 'sentimental value'-aka, I'd feel really bad if I threw it away.

"**W**ell hello there!" The scary, old, pale looking Mrs. Davidson announced as she saw me hiding from her behind Gran. She was using what I like to call, the baby voice. You know the one where it makes you feel really young, even if you were given it when you were like, two.

"Hi," I sort of sighed out shakily, trying to ignore the pointed glares Gran was throwing at me.

"Well take a seat, I'm sure Davie wouldn't mind if you took the one next to him," Mrs. Davidson coed, throwing 'Davie' a stern look that totally said, "Say-anything-that-proves-that-wrong-and-I'll-circumcise-you!" to which he just rolled his eyes.

Looking at Davie Davidson, I couldn't help but to first off feel bad about his name. I mean, it would be like naming me Ben Benson-totally not cool and a mean, elementary school kids' dreams come true for bullying. The second thing I could feel bad about was the way his parents made him dress-at least I sincerely hope it was his parents making him dress that way. It looked like he was on his way to the nerd convention. Seriously, his hair was slicked back, greasy looking from the amount of gel needed to keep it that way, he had on a very geeky looking shirt, and those pants that just look…gross.

I gave Mrs. Davidson a tentative smile and started towards the side of the booth-table that Davie was on.

He gave me a tired look as I sat down, obviously not wanting anything more than to be at home and not dressed like a complete idiot.

I smiled sympathetically, and if telepathy was possible, I'd have told him that I felt the exact same way. "I'm so glad you guys could make it! Unfortunately George and Ashton both had to work late-" Davie coughed slightly, muffling laughter. Mrs. Davidson shot him an evil look, "- so they couldn't make it. George said to tell you-" I tuned her out as she launched into a huge story about some weird leaky pipe, a kitten, and an emergency room visit. I instead choose to talk to Davie.

"So, how old are you?" I asked, hoping he'd bite and we'd actually be able to live through the next hour and a half without dieing of boredom.

He seemed to see what I was doing, so he answered with a bored, "Fourteen, and you?"

"I just turned seventeen on the fourteenth of August," I replied, picking at a worn edge of the fake wooden table.

"So you're like, seventeen and-" He paused to count out ten days on his fingers, before saying, "-ten days?"

"Way to go genius, you've successfully mastered the art of obviousness!" I said sarcastically, shooting him a small smile.

Davie sent me a mock glare and said, "So smarty-pants, what's your name?"

"Carrie Benson, and before you ask, I prefer to take long walks on the beach and eat candle light dinners," I said, mocking our lame-ass conversation.

Davie gave me a crooked grin and shot out, "Well, my names David Davidson, and before _you_ ask, I _don't _like either of those things, preferring to stay more towards watching paint dry and grass die,"

I cracked a grin, and nudged his arm. "That was pretty good, kid."

"I try,"

"I know,"

"Hey,"

"Well, you totally left that one open for mocking!" I exclaimed, temporarily attracting the looks of both Gran and Mrs. Davidson, but they just smiled at how we were getting along okay and continued talking about that weird plumbing problem.

Davie stuck his tongue out at me, and I paused for a second. "So, _Davie,_" I said slowly, watching as he flinched at the nickname. "What do you actually prefer to be called? 'Cause I hope it's not actually Davie because A) It's geeky, and B) You are totally asking to be made fun of."

Davie sighed slightly and gave me a small frown. "Actually, no one at my school really cares enough to make fun of me or to know my nickname in the first place. I mean, with the way my mom makes me dress, and the classes she makes me take, no one wants to really hang out with the nerdy kid,"

I think a part of my heart just died for him. "Well, since I now go to your school, and I _do _care enough, I guess I'll just have to think one up," I sighed heavily, acting like it was the biggest deal in the world.

Davie gave me a small smile, and I grinned. "All right, what is your favorite animal?" I started, getting down to the fine art of nick name naming.

**W**e left the restaurant thirty minutes later, and I had gained three things: One, a new completely dorky friend, two, a really fun dress up doll-aka dorky friend, and three, a job so I could get said dorky friend non dorky clothes. I had decided to bring it upon myself to help Davie-still no nickname-out, being that he's just going to start High School, something I've been in for over two years-going on my third. I think I have _some_ experience in that area.

The restaurant we were at was called "The Lodge", and it's locally owned-surprise, surprise-by a woman named Sandy. Sandy was a short, slightly chubby, forty-year-old woman who was a little short on help for a little too long. Her eyes had _tons _of concealer under them in an attempt to cover up bruise like bags that hung there, her hair had lost all shine,-it wasn't greasy or anything, just dead looking, you know?-and she looked like she was going to fall over if someone ordered anything else.

Anyway, I now work there after school-when it starts- during the dinner rush 'till around ten. I got enough hours before school starts that I could take Davie-yeah I know, I still have to think of a nickname-shopping, and hopefully turn his dressing habits around. I mean, Davies' such an awesome kid, and I really think more people would give him a chance if he didn't look like such a…target to bullying, you know?

* * *

**I **threw my wallet on the floor before sliding out of my pajama pants and into my favorite pair of skinny jeans. I love this pair because they make my butt and legs look _amazing_. After throwing on a red flowing shirt that had black, belt-like straps that mom had given to me last Christmas, I slid my feet into a black pair of wedges that had a three inch heel. Being that I'm already like, five foot six, it makes me pretty tall-and hot.

I quickly lined my blue eyes with a little gray eyeliner, and pulled my blond hair in a simple ponytail while pulling my bangs back with a red clip. After a few seconds of staring in the mirror, I shrugged, grabbed my wallet, threw it into my black suitcase-of-a-purse, and went downstairs.

"I'm taking Davie to Port Angeles!" I called to Gran as I walked by the living room, catching her once again watching _What Not to Wear-_I had forced Gran to sign the check and we once again had power_._

"Oh good, that child's parents buy him the ugliest clothes…" Gran trailed off and kind of stared into space. I just rolled my eyes and grabbed the keys out of the dish by the door.

Gran wasn't really as old as you'd think she was, having a seventeen-year-old great-granddaughter and all. She's actually only 72, because she had my grandma at seventeen, who had my mom at twenty, who had me at eighteen. Yes, I do plan to break all this early pregnancy thing and wait till I'm at least twenty-four to have anything resembling a child calling me mom.

With a loud groan, I backed the grandma-mobile from the driveway, carefully maneuvering the mail box so I don't scratch the already dead looking red paint.

At the restaurant last week, Davie had told me where he lived and we had agreed that we would go shopping today and that I would _try_-try being the keyword- to help him find a new nickname. When I pulled up to a nice-looking house in a little reservation called La Push, I climbed out of the car and knocked on the Davidson's front door.

Davie threw the door open, and I practically screamed. His mother-the very…lovely creature that she is-was standing behind him and tugging at his clothes and hair, efficiently making everything even worse than it was originally. I gave Davie a sympathetic smile, and he looked like he might cry.

"Hello, Mrs. Davidson!" I called cheerily trying to distract her from making an even bigger mess on her sons head.

Mrs. Davidson looked up, looking a little startled, before saying, "Hello dear. I'm just helping Davie get ready for a friend who's coming over. Are you here for Ashton?" She asked with confusion coloring her voice being that 'Ashton' was probably not even home.

"Aw, no. I'm here to take Davie to the mall-he asked me to give him a ride there because he was meeting some friends there and, you know us teens, we're pretty embarrassed to be driven by our parents," I lied quickly. I saw Davie give a sigh of relief-I'm sure his mom wouldn't approve of me bringing him to the mall so I could corrupt his "good looks".

When Davie and I finally got into the grandma-mobile, I let out a laugh at his crazy nerd hair. "Alright, bud, first things first: we need to go to the gas station and fix your hair,"

Davie gave me a look, and I tried to smother my laughter. "Why don't we just do it at the mall?"

I sent Davie an incredulous look before saying, "You can't go into the girls' bathroom! At the gas station here in town, the bathroom door is on the outside of the actual building, so no one will see us, and its unisex!"

Davie gave me an embarrassed smile and nodded. "So, what are we going to do afterwards?"

"Well, I was thinking that because then you'll be one smoking hot hottie, we should go to the movie theater and see that new zombie movie to celebrate our successfulness," I chirped, giving Davie a grin and waggling my eyebrows.

"No, we can't go to the movie theater!" Davie exclaimed, his eyes wide with panic.

"Why not?" I asked slowly, slightly alarmed at his sudden outburst.

"Ashton and his friends are going to be there," He mumbled, looking down at his shoes.

"So…?" I trailed off, turning back to the road quickly.

"He'll take you, too," He whispered, his voice so low I could barely hear it.

"What are you talking about, Davie?"

"He'll take you away from me, just like he does to anyone who might want to be my friend."

"Davie…I wouldn't just leave you-"

"That's what you say now, but once you're around him…you'll change."

"What are you talking-" Davie cut me off and started talking quickly.

"It all started about a year and a half ago. It was the end seventh grade, and my friends, Brady and Collin, and I were walking to my house. When we got there, we played video games for a few hours, you know, guy stuff. Then Ashton came home with one of his friends, Jake. Suddenly they both wanted to play video games too, and ever since that day, they'd hang around Brady and Collin as much as possible. About two weeks later, Brady and Collin both got really sick, and every time I asked them to come over, or called them, their parents would say that they couldn't come to the phone. This went on for two weeks, until one day, I had enough," Davie trailed off, and I looked at him in the corner of my eye.

"What happened?" I asked quietly.

"I went over to Brady's house, you know, to see if they really were sick or if they just didn't want to talk to me. Well, Brady answered the door, but it wasn't really Brady…" Davie stopped for a second, and I could see he had his eyebrows furrowed. "He was…he was always kind of tall, and he had some muscles, but that day…it couldn't be possible without using some serious steroids. Anyway, I asked if he was just ignoring me, and do you know what he said?" Davie asked, his face suddenly contorted with anger.

"He said that he and Collin didn't want to hang around with geeks like me. That he found new, cooler friends, and that I should just fuck off," My eyes widened, and I looked over quickly.

"What did you say?"

"I accused him of using steroids, and he got real mad-shaking all over the place."

"Roid-rage" I said quietly.

"Yeah, but that's not even the worst part. I know they're all doing it, Ashton, his friends, Collin, and Brady-but I can't do anything. When I tried to tell mom, she just brushed it off, like it wasn't a big deal. Dad actually smiled, and said he was happy Ashton was with the crowd he was. I didn't tell George-he's just my step-dad-but I kind of wish I did now. Now they all keep looking at me funny, almost like they're waiting for something-like they're waiting for me to want to join them too,"

"Oh my gosh Davie, that's so horrible." I breathed out. I guess it makes sense though, that that's why he is so…geeky. When your best friends both tell you you're basically worthless to them, I guess you just stop trying. Suddenly something occurred to me.

"I do have one question, though," I started, giving Davie a small grin before paying attention to the road once more. "Is Davidson your original last name?"

"No, I took Georges last name after the wedding-I was only two. Why?" Davie asked, confusion and interest lighting his face.

"Oh, just because I was wondering if your parents had been mean enough to actually name you David with the last name Davidson,"

Davie chuckled and shook his head at me, "Only you would think of this after a story like that,"

* * *

**Please tell me what you think. Anyway, the story will start to pick up pretty soon here, so keep reading! **


End file.
